


Linguistic Miracle

by TheIncredibleIbex



Category: Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001)
Genre: M/M, Milo is a language dork, WAFF, plot what plot?, sweet is sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 12:07:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5416373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIncredibleIbex/pseuds/TheIncredibleIbex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Milo is way too excited by the creation of a single word, and Sweet is sweet on him. (I'm not sorry for making that pun; it's been 14 years since the movie was released, someone should have beaten me to it!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Linguistic Miracle

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: Kheksei is the Atlantean Vinny was making out with in my other fic, Gadlakutsha. Other fun fact, I lost this story TWICE to my computer overheating.

“You might’ve broken their language! It’s a linguistic miracle!” Milo gushed, and Sweet reconsidered, not for the first time, being the one to volunteer to haul the scrawny scholar back for rest. “I mean it, this is incredible, we’re witnessing a rare moment in linguistic history wherein the need for a new word is formed and a struggle to create something to fill the void is going on, and _in a language isolate_ no less! The etymology of a word, from start to finish, completely recorded, along with all the failed attempts at words and the exact origins and processes of how they tried to work those into their vernacular recorded as it happened!” 

It should’ve been illegal for anyone to be that energetic about anything at what was, surface-time, two in the morning. Especially since Milo had gotten up at _five_ the previous morning to talk to, seemingly everyone about, apparently, everything. He’d mentioned dual wielding majors in Archaeology and Linguistics to Sweet before, proudly, because people said it couldn’t be done, because he was the first person since his grandfather to do it, and most importantly because he wasn’t satisfied with just the pieces of paper, the knowledge he had, he wanted more. Sweet was willing to bet that without Atlantis Milo would have been one of those linguists out there in the midst of the wilderness jotting down the intricacies of Navajo or Blackfoot or God only knew what. And he’d be just as joyous about it as he was here and now. That wasn’t a bad idea, actually - bring Milo to Kansas back home with him, have him gush about some of the languages there.

By far, the thing Sweet loved most in this world was honesty. They didn’t come more honest than Milo, who not only wore his heart on sleeve but worked it into his profession, into every aspect of his life. He was earnest, unfailingly truth and boundlessly enthusiastic. Sweet wished he loved _anything_ as much as Milo loved a night full of watching people try to invent a word. There were people who’d had religious experiences that didn’t come out of it with that much raw energy. Milo didn’t even notice Sweet grinning at him as he handed him a bundle of scrolls, all written in Milo’s own crisp and quick handwriting, all notes on, again, the invention of a _single word_. And he was still going, writing as he walked.

“We might have to impose on these people’s hospitality, ask ‘em for a truck to load all this into,” the doctor laughed, and even he wasn’t sure if he was joking. The brunet shrugged with the air of someone too busy to be bothered. The smile on Milo’s face softened the contour of his chin, made his eyes light up. “What word were they fighting over, anyway?”

“Not fighting over, trying to create! See, Atlantean law always forbade intermarriage with other groups, which is why they’re so homogenous that the most variation we’ve seen is gray hair instead of white or green eyes instead of blue.”

“There was that golden eyed fella with Kida’s welcome party,” Sweet pointed out, betting it would trigger another onslaught of explanation and word vomit. He was kind of fond it, by this point.

“Oh, yeah – Kheksei. I asked about him, and apparently that’s an indicator _he_ has mixed ancestry, but it wasn’t willingly. A group of about twenty Atlantean women were successfully abducted once by outsiders. As far as anyone can tell he’s the only mixed Atlantean to ever exist. So when I told them about your parents, everyone’s jaw hit the floor! I don’t think they even realized people from two different cultures could love each other and have kids! And then they tried to do what they did with Kheksei, just group you with one of your parents, since they figured you would have sided with one culture, and that’s not the case. You’re literally too complex, nuanced and unique to fit into the little slots their society has carved out. They had to invent a word on the spot for someone who’s equal parts two heritages; I got so much etymological data down, so much phonology and a whole new look at their grammar sentence and how compound words are made-”

Sweet leaned down and kissed him. Milo would have flailed but then he’d have dropped his stuff, so he settled on continuing to make word-like noises for several seconds against Sweet’s smiling lips.

“Wha- what was that for?” Milo gasped, red enough to rival most tomatoes.

“For thinking I’m some kind of miracle. You’ve got a talented tongue, you know that?” He bumped his shoulder against the skinny man’s, gently. “Not hard to get the wrong impression.”

Milo’s response was so quiet only mice could hear it, assuming there were any around here. He cleared his throat and tried again. “S’ not the _wrong_ impression. I just, um. Well, look at you! I assumed you were taken before I even knew your name.”

A peck to the temple had his friend blushing anew. “Don’t sweat it. But keep the compliments coming, I like what they’re doing for my ego.”

“They’re not – I’m just saying what I really think.”

“I know.” Another kiss, this time to the cheek, earning him a bright, sunshiny smile. “It’s what I love most about you. Now, you were saying something about compound words?”

Milo’s rambling lasted them the entire way back.


End file.
